


Asymptote

by tropicalgothic



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 06:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15164585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tropicalgothic/pseuds/tropicalgothic
Summary: An asymptote of a curve is a line such that the distance between the curve and the line approaches zero— moving close and closer but never touching. A series of stories about individuals a breath away from each other, coming closer but never meeting.





	Asymptote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Festivals celebrated in Sunagakure come with music, dancing, feasting, families going out together, and sometimes, kite flying.

Sasori’s was an old red kite that with a white scorpion in the middle. His father had bought it for him from the best craftsman when he was younger. His mother taught him how to let the kite soar high into the air. 

She also taught him how to cut other kites down with a quick pull of the string.

He has since become proficient in the art of kite fighting (the technique was a science, the execution an art)— becoming his own teacher since the age of 5. But it was nothing like puppetry and puppet making. Sasori did not have the same pride in that skill. Kite fighting was just something to pass the time until the next shipment of wood comes.

So he stood, in the middle of the sights and sounds and festivities of Suna, lazily bringing his kite higher and higher into the air. There were other children fighting with their kites a few blocks down. All of them avoided the scorpion kite— Sasori was infamous even in Suna’s more childish games.

It was in the late afternoon when a small blue kite with white stripes on it came close to his. Sasori tilted his head to get a look at the challenger— a boy around his age with blonde hair was holding the string of the kite. A girl with the same mop of hair (maybe darker; maybe it’s the sun) stood a few steps back holding the spool. Perhaps, they were siblings.

That didn’t matter. Sasori would make short work of the kite and let it fall like the others. He pulled the string back, and then let some loose. Guide his kite just below the smaller blue one. Bend low, in perfect form, and——

The small blue kite slipped from where Sasori had it. He wrinkled his nose. Underestimated the distance because the other kite was small, he told himself. This time, the small blue kite was trying to cut his string. Sasori pulled hard, and fast—— letting the old red kite dive down.

A beat and the blue followed suit, chasing his kite. Stripes chasing the scorpion. He goes low and then releases the thread for the wind to carry the kite in the other direction. The blue kite dove down and swiftly pulled—— Sasori held his breath. His kite stayed in the air. He could hear some fussing on the other side— frantic pulling of the string, and managing the spool so it doesn’t tangle. Take advantage of the confusion. Dip low— cu—

Once again, the blue kite narrowly escaped.

Sasori let out a quiet breath. This time his eyes trained on the kites. Watching how the blue one moved. It moved a lot. Playful thing against the wind. But it moved in a predictable pattern. Predictably wait for a one, two, three seconds until the distance is perfect—

He heard the familiar sound of ground glass cutting string.

The small blue kite fell quietly from the sky.

It took a bit longer than the usual, but the old red scorpion remained undefeated in the skies. He turned to where the two children were— the girl hugging the small boy as he rolled the string back into the spool. Siblings, he decided. Or just friends. Either way, such gestures of comfort were not familiar to him.

Sasori claimed his prized kite a few minutes later. The kite looked old and new at the same time— with a cloth that looked like it had seen better days and a plastic frame that looked like it had been scraps, picked up just before the fight. Something made— because obviously no kite craftsman with any pride would sell this. 

Even the cutting thread was a bit brittle.

Hah. That’s when he decided that, at 6 years old, Sasori no longer needed another empty victory. He certainly didn’t need an old, badly made kite. He proceeded to walk towards the roof he saw the two children standing on earlier.

It didn’t take long to find them— two children; a boy and a girl; blonde and a shade darker… and a woman with long red hair. Sasori did not think much of the scene until he saw the woman reach out to wipe a tear from the young boy’s eye. Place a kiss on his forehead. Bring both of them into an embrace.

Hah. Family.

Sasori left the small blue kite on the sidewalk of that road and walked home alone.


End file.
